


UNEXPECTED OCCURENCE

by Luumyquan557



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A lot of creative liberties, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Boi is he wrong, Canon Temporary Character Death, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First attempt at a shitty story hope you all enjoy, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, I Had To, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I just love Johnlock, I suck at summary and plot okay have mercy on me dear lord, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John trying his best, Lestrade being spooked, Like Sherlock wasn't in his right mind when he was young, Like i just love creating drama, M/M, Mental Breakdown, My First Fanfic, Original Male Character - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-Child Relationship, Parental Issues, Parenthood, Past Child Abuse, Post-Reichenbach, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Drugs, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Slow Burn, Smart Child Character, Smart John, Smart John Watson, Swearing, Trauma, Unexpected Parenthood, Violent Thoughts, Yeah Lestrade's team's record and achievements have not been good since Sherlock "died", a lot of character's thoughts, a lot of depressive thoughts, be warned, but he doesn't think Sherlock is interested, don't i, fake suicide, happy ending I promise, it will be complete one way or another, like seriously how the fuck did i manage to write so much, this is gonna a long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luumyquan557/pseuds/Luumyquan557
Summary: Barely five months after Sherlock's death, John was slowly yet so ever damn surely falling apart. Every day since then, he had just been surviving not living.  When Lestrade phone him, with nervousness and uncertainty in his voice, asking for some help with a case since Anderson who usually did the forensic stuff, and another worker who examined the body had been unfortunately unavailable and with the downfall of Lestrade's record recently, he couldn't afford to risk another scolding from his supervisor, John agreed, despite the forming of the painful twist in his stomach at the thought of being at a crime scene without a certain arrogant high-functioning sociopath. Never did he expect to encounter such a surreal event and never did he expect to find out Sherlock having a secret - well secret would be unfitting as the man himself didn't realize this
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 42
Kudos: 21





	1. CHAPTER 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am just a simple fan who just want to share their idea with the world. Have mercy on me, if you have any constructive criticism, don't be afraid to put it in the comment section. I got inspired by another spectacularly written Johnlock fanfic called" The third holmes ", you can check it on this website if you so desire  
> Finally, please enjoy my sleep-deprived writing extravaganza in my third language ( oh dear Buhdda, I am going to bloody screw this up so much )

It was another uneventful Saturday, which was obviously granted John didn't need to work on these days. Usually, these days would be spent moping around the flat, having occasional mental meltdowns and the rare phantom hallucinations of his deceased flatmate moving along the premises of the flat, with his dressing robe dragging on the floor. John had to practically yell at his brain to stop all this nonsense

‘God, I wish I had that memory-deleting ability of that bastard. Sure would be convenient to ease all of this'

The thought was accompanied by a vague gesture of both the blond's hands, waving at his surrounding, which was their flat. Despise cursing to forget all of this, forget his time with Sherlock, deep down John knew if he could, he wouldn't After all the memories were too precious to him, almost as precious as the man those memories were shared with. _Bloody sentiments_

'I guess this is why Sherlock always says - well said that sentiment was a weakness'

The doctor chuckled sadly, his left hand covering his face as he leaned against the wall of the living room. No sooner had he put his hand down than he caught sight of the smiled made by numerous bullets, courtesy of bloody Sherlock Holmes on one of his deemed boring days. Almost instantly, John felt his stomach twist in pain.

 **" BASTARD, FUCKING TWAT"** He screamed, punching the wall in a fit of frustration, ignoring the pain slowly creeping in on his hand and the rattling of the wall decorations.

'This is fucking ridiculous. I was a soldier for fuck sake, I killed people, I watched my comrades die before my eyes, and none of that shit managed to break me and yet Sherlock Holmes with his bloody high cheekbones, icy blue eyes, arrogant attitude, mysterious black coat, snarky remarks, inconsiderate nature and that oh-so-damn brilliant mind of his did. I am supposed to be stronger than this. I am supposed to...

Before John could continue to battle with his mind, a sudden knock snapped him back to reality.

" John, how are you today, dear." 

It was Mrs. Hudson

" No better than a man who witnessed his best friend commit suicide right in front of his eyes " He replied, mustering a light-hearted tone to mask his real emotions, he even added to dismissive wave for good measure.

Unfortunately, Mrs. H here wanted none of that shit. Scrunching her nose up which made her eyes look squinted, looking like she was looking straight through his soul. Though not long after, her face dropped into one of sympathy and sadness.

John shifted his feet in discomfort and slight annoyance. He hated receiving looks like that, they made him feel weak and so exposed. Despite knowing the kind landlady just wanted to help him through his difficult time, it had proven impossible for John to ignore his rather negative emotions about Mrs. Hudson's expression

" Oh dear boy, I know this is very difficult for you, given the rather intimate relationship between the two of you. Sherlock never had a lot of friends. Believe me, not many have that patience of yours to get to know him truly."She started 

" Mrs. Hudson, I have ready told you, I am not gay. Sherlock and I were never a thing" John retorted. Truth to be told, He himself wasn't even sure if the words that had come out of his mouth were true. It's not like he was disgusted by the thought of being attracted to a bloke but this is Sherlock we are talking about, the one who always deemed relationship to be beneath him. The first meeting had proven and solidified this idea very well, to the point that to John, it was as blatantly true as the bloody solar system or other common facts.

" Oh, an old lady like I can dream" She responded playfully, waving her hand around in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

Not wanting to upset Mrs. Hudson and maybe himself, John only chuckled along with her.

" Now since I have gotten you to lighten up a bit, here- she said as a bag of cookies was offered to John- I made a little too much . Might as well let you enjoy some goodies. And do remember to clean all this mess up, dear. I am your landlady, not your housekeeper, John"

And with that, she was out the doors, not without giving a last assuring glance at the army doctor.Closing the doors, John fell back to his robotic state, slumping against the wall

" God if only you knew how people care about you, Sherlock. Always going on and on about being a sociopath, having no friends but you have friends , people who care about you. They care about you , bloody idiot .-

I care about you"

_God, if anyone sees me now, they will think I am a complete nutter, mourning the death of my best friend more than necessary_

_ Ring ring  _

John jumped a little in his position, before realizing it was his phone 

'Of course '

He clumsily reached for it to discover who would have the need to call him during the weekend . Definitely not his patients. The word " Greg" popped up brightly on his phone .Pressing the green circle he bought it up to his ear, preparing to hear whatever that was coming

" Hello Lestrade, what is it? " He started 

" Oh hey J-John" The man on the other line responded Despite not being as observant as Sherlock, John could clearly sense the shakiness of his voice and maybe a slight tiredness in it 

" Lestrade ,have you been sleeping well? " The doctor in him started taking over. Really wish the doctor in John would also have the consideration to take care of himself 

" Oh I-i am quite well - the sound accompanied that statement was a slurping one, which John concluded was Lestrade sipping on his coffee. He hoped it wasn't the coffee at New Scotland Yard as the coffee they offered there was disgusting with its grainy texture and slimy sensation after you swallowed it. Sure it did its job well providing the police with enough caffeine to get through the day but dear Lord , he was not going to have another taste of that solution that the officers of New Scotland Yard called coffee. He had tasted better in Afghanistan, even during the supply shortages. 

" It's just that - Lestrade started again, albeit this time less shaky and more somber in a way - I have been having trouble with this case. My team have worked relentlessly on this shit for days and the progress are being made at snail's paceand we have just barely solved it . And now there is a new murder By God, I wish we had Sher- I mean him here . He would have solved this case in less than 20 minutes I would even endure a damn lecture of his, telling us off as idiots Now with Anderson and Emalia gone , one due to family affair one due to her child's accident, we are even more stuck on this case " Lestrade stopped ,realizing he was rambling 

' Probably due to the stress ' John concluded and silently nodded his head in agreement despite the fact that the detective inspector wouldn't be able to take notice of that 

" So - John faked a cough - from I am hearing is you want me to help you " He suggested 

The one on the other line swallowed a lump down his throat. 

" Yes ,I know this is hard for you. But I promise it will be quick I just need to you to look around the case ,see what caused the victim death and anything strange. I can't afford to take another scolding from my supervisor. But I can't find anyone to stand in for the two at the moment and you're my best bet. I know this is a tad selfish mate but I just need a few hours of your time " Lestrade pleaded 

John was surprised for a moment, he never thought Lestrade would be this distressed to need help from him. Sure he accompanied Sherlock on a lot of his cases but he was always in the background, just a decoration, someone who could easily be forgotten. 

" Lestrade,.. .. I don't think I can-"

" John please, I am begging you. You just need to stand in for Anderson and Emalia for one or two days ,only a few hours each. " 

' Well it wouldn't be hard to help him ,he does sound desperate. I can't possibly leave him like this '

" Fine , I will help Lestrade but don't come at me when I can't see anything more than you okay ? " 

" Oh thank god ,I won't "


	2. CHAPTER 2

" Okay , Lestrade I will be there in an hour or so" John bid his goodbye to Lestrade after the Detective Inspector had sent him the address 

' Well since I have nothing to do here, besides acting like a complete lunatic, might as well help Lestrade as much as I can. My therapist did say I needed to get out more often and not only for work' Thought John as he reminisced on his latest session

_**∑** _

_" John, I believe some getting out of the house would most likely do you some good" The sound of Ella's voice barely registered in John's mind_

_" Believe me, I tried" John responded, now rising himself up from the couch on which he had just been lying a few minutes ago to end his session. Bidding Ella a half-hearted goodbye, John took his coat from the coat hanger and walked out the doors. They had been having this conversation for three weeks now and it was beginning to drive him up the damn bullet punctured wall, but he wasn't going to lash out at Ella as she was trying to help him. It was her job and he was at fault for being a stubborn bloke who couldn't even get over these traumas despite having gone to therapy for months_

_**∑** _

'Maybe I am just too weak, too broken to be fixed' The idea stung him sharply, more painful than the bullet that shot through his shoulder. Shaking his sandy blond head side to side to shut that idea off, he quickly changed to get ready to go assist Lestrade with a case , without Sherlock , and he was damn determined to keep all of his bubbling shit and turmoil together until he was isolated from the eyes of the public in the flat to break down in peace and weep his eyes till his heart was content, lest he be seen as weak or worse a bloody nutter. 

* * *

" Here dear, some money for you to spend and have fun. " A woman said with a sweet tone 

_almost too sweet_ it was almost like those cheap candy handed out of obligation on Halloween and would soon be throw in the trash since even a kid would say it was too sweet, too artificial 

while handling a few crumbled bills of fivers and tenners to the young child, most likely hers. Having made the child accept the money, she put on a honey smile and pat his blond head before bidding him farewell

" Just stay here and have some fun. Mommy will come get you soon after she and her boyfriend have had some private time together " She said and then walk back to her car, not even bothering to wait for a response from her precious child or find out why he was carrying a backpack a little too big for his size and another bag currently residing in his small hands 

' Like hell you will' The boy thought bitterly ' I can obviously see through your lies, running off with your boyfriend while leaving me behind. How typical ' he finished thinking, wiping off the tear from his left eye but he wasn't going to beg mother to let him stay by her side

As much as he hated the idea of being left behind, he was definitely not going stay with his mother any longer. 

As the car speeded off, he didn't bat an eye at it and quickly went to sit near one of the benches of the entrance of the park, whose location was unfamiliar to him so he concluded that he was probably too far from his house so walking home was a no no and even if he could, there could still be a possibility of the house already being sold off to fuel mother and her boyfriend's addiction. 

Face turning into a grimace, he silent vowed to stay away from those disaster-causing things that can reduce humans to just a bunch of mindless, brainless thugs looking for their next hit .Unlike his once-was-brilliant-but-now-a-dimwit-due-to-drug mother, the boy was bright and mature for his age, too mature - well technically, he had to if he wanted to survive and not get taken advantage of by corrupted and vile adults 

'Honestly if mother is this far gone, I wonder how father is doing? What if he isn't even alive? Great another bad thing added to cons of being an accidental drug baby '

' And the school taught me that a mother would never abandon her child. Yeah right, those sugar coating jerks' Lamented the boy as he looked out to the scenery of the park with people all going on with their lives so peacefully, so carefree. He envied them. 

' I might as well map out a plan since mother decided that this child is too worthless and expensive to keep, and she needs more time for her boyfriend and her" Happy pills " '. His pale hand started to rummage through his bag, pulling out a small paper. 

' good thing I managed to nip a map of London from school before summer break started. Never thought I would one day need this though. And the phone I stole from Mother should come in handy. But calling Mr and Miss police now will be risky and I don't think they will believe me, a child. I need to solve this before summer ends, I need to have a good education if I want to get out of this. I hope birth certificate would come in handy ' 

He remained still for arguably thirty minutes, just observing the scene and the people, taking in every detail of them, connecting the invisible dots in his head. It was a good stress relief, he admitted 

A loud sound interrupted his thinking progress. Turning his head around, the imagine of a police car came into view. 

' Brilliant ' He thought, optimistically for once 

' I can request them for help. Everything is going to be fine. I will be safe . I already packed up everything I would need.Honestly , If mother had wanted to leave me, she should have made more effort to hide that desire from me '

Packing his stuff like lightning, he leaped off his seat and followed the car's trace. The following didn't last so long as the car soon came to a stop before the middle of a street known notoriously for being busy, only that it wasn't today. And the large puddle of blood and many various others of lesser size splattered around may have contributed to this 

Despite the many people stepping back from the bloody scene, the boy just felt compelled to get closer and so he did, ever so carefully. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has anything to suggest or criticize, please put it in the comment section, I am always game for some improvements, especially in this work as it is my first one


	3. Chapter 3

" Okay Lestrade, I am here " John greeted the silver-haired detective . And his eyes widened in surprise. 

Dear Christ and Satan's left pierced nipple, he looked horrible, like a piece of tuna drenched in sewage and then eaten and regurgitated by a wolf and then finally mixed with mud . Okay it was a bit exaggerated but you get the idea. 

' Hair messy as a crow's nest, insanely heavy eye bags, look like he is at brink of a bloody breakdown. AND DEAR GOD IS ACTUALLY DRINKING COFFEE FROM THE YARD ' 

John knew that Lestrade was stressed but he didn't know he was this stressed. 

" Lestrade, mate are you really okay? " John asked, once again his inner doctor Watson making a spectacular return

It took Lestrade a moment to acknowledge John's existence, let alone register the doctor's question but he soon got to it. Fumbling with the cup of disgusting coffee in his hand and a report file in the other, he went up to John to greet him

" Hey John, y-yeah i'm fine. Just bloody dandy. " He said, faking a cheery voice which was no way convincing and definitely didn't require a genius to look through that 

" Lestrade" John growled, activating his doctor voice, the one he always used when his patient was worrying too much about their pride and not being honest about their conditions and life habits, which was too many times to count, not even mentioning the times he had to use it force Sherlock to eat or else he would faint right after solving the case and you can guess who had the honor of carrying the world's biggest overgrown toddle back to the flat. 

" oKay - Lesstrade finally fessed up - no, I haven't been fine. It's like all the crime imaginable just started to rise up the bloody damn roof after Sherlock's death . Don't even get me to mention the pricking damn scandals his death has caused, the yard is having a bad reputation for it and several officers have been put off duty due to bad conduct , which leave the remaining ones, including me to deal with all of this shit. And my record these day has been shut and Dearest god everything is so damn shitty with everything. The cases, the scandals, the news, the paparazzi * shudder* " By the time Lestrade had finally finished, he was out of breath and was breathing heavily like a one of those genetically bred to be insanely cute but also ended up with breathing problems flat faced cats. 

John didn't know how to deal with this subject so all he could do was offering some condolences to his friend. 

" I am so sorry for that, Lestrade. The news of Sherlock being a fake has really affected you badly, eh" John nearly choked when he reached the Sherlock being a fake part. There was no ways scientifically or realistically that Sherlock was a fake. It angered him to see people think so lowly of his best friend.Sure he had a lot of shortcomings,. Sure he was , most of the times, an arrogant git who claimed to be above all emotions , But he was a brilliant man, who hadn't done anything intentionally bad in my life and he did care in his own way. Like the way he would always looked out for Mrs Hudson. 

After the fall, he began to despise Anderson and Donovan even more, knowing that they too had had a part to play in his dear friend's suicide. Sure they were just pawns in the sick psychopath 's demented game of chess but they were willing pawns so John's resentment towards them was, in a way ,justified. But he wasn't going to act out on his anger. From what he learnt, doing that always seemed to bite him back in the arse. And he had already had enough baggage to deal with, thank you very much 

" Yeah" Mustered Lestrade as he took another gulp of coffee, to which John internally cringed 

' How do the Yard even stomach that? '

" Anyway I will lead to the crime scene, unlike others, this one is out in the open for all to see so we had to make sure no civilians will get close to it, especially children, They will be traumatized " 

Lestrade said, gesturing for John to follow 

The crime scene was, as Lestrade had said, out in the damn open for all to see. Three people, one woman and two men, were found dead in their puddles of blood. The scene was discovered by a elderly woman who were walking her dog in the early hours. 

_oh poor her_

" Well pretty brutal. Any comment, mate? "

John crouched down to the cadavers, examining one of the men first. Wearing the gloves the Yard had provided, he slowly lifted the head up, careful as not to disturb any other part of the body. The body had started to enter the stage of rigor mortis but not completely so the death could have occured only around 4 to 5 hours prior. He did the same to the other two, and found the exact same result , through the woman's cause of death was hard to determine as she had bruises, stab wounds , head injuries and also marks of strangulation around her neck. The woman was dressed rather lavishly, but the old age of her clothes told John that she was nowhere near wealthy, this couldn't be a case of robbery as their wallets were all there, through none of them had their IDs unfortunately . 

" Well, the death of the two blokes were most likely caused by the stab wounds,made antemorterm . The woman ,on the other hand , is hard to determine as she has so many injuries of various kinds . This doesn't seem like a case of burglary as their wallets are still there and the woman 's jewellery is still on her.

' Though I don't think they would be much in value as they look fake '

" Honestly Lestrade this seems like a case caused by violent impulses more than anything, " 

" I see " Lestrade responded almost disappointedly. John felt bad that he couldn't be more helpful. 

" I guess we- 

Lestrade's speech was cut off by the sight of another person who was definitely not one of his team staring at the corpses at the pavement. 

' A KID???? ' Lestrade internally screamed 

The kid was starting at the corpses almost in a trance. 

Feeling worried that the kid had just been traumatized, he rushed to pull the kid away from the crime scene to both preserve the scene and the poor child's innocence. Dragging the kid to where he and John were, he held the kid in place, hand firmly on both of his shoulders, already to give out a shock blanket. 

' How did a kid even get in here ? ' he wondered, hadn't his team already blocked out this area to outsiders ? 

" Kid, are you okay.? " He asked in a concerned manner, shaking the kid in an attempt to get him out of his presumed shock-induced trance

Surprisingly, the kid looked almost unfazed. He just stared keenly at Lestrade 

" I'm just fine, Mr Policeman " He started, almost too calm for a kid his age, glancing again at the slaughter in front of him, taking in all the details. 

" I was just wondering if it was possible that the culprits were among the dead bodies over there " He continues, pointing at the scene. 

" What? " Lestrade and John started, looking at the kid like he had just grown a third arm and a second head 

" Well, I'm sorry for overhearing what the two of you were discussing earlier, Mr Policeman. But you said that nothing of value was stolen so burglary is out of questions. I think this would be what they call a crime of passion. Judging by the lady's lavish yet quite obviously old and worn clothes, we can see that she wasn't quite wealthy but liked to keep up the appearance that she was. Her death could have been caused by many things but I think strangulation is out of the way as the mark is not very deep in colour so maybe she got it while doing bedroom wrestling, judging by some of the light and nearly healed bruises on her waist. " He proved his point by directing the two adults' eyes on the lady's waist and sure to his words, there were some bruises there but they were most definitely not made during the struggle. 

" Which made me think that perhaps this was just a murder out of sheer jealousy. Maybe she was leading two guys on and one night while she was with one of her sweethearts, they bumped into the other and a jealousy fit ensured, ending with all of them dead. There were some traces of skins and blood on both men's fingernails , Mister. I think if you get it examined, it may shine some light on this " 

For a moment, it was like the whole world had collapsed, that reality was no more than an illusion. 

The silence seemed to put the kid in a uncomfortable situation. Clutching his bag, he looked up in worry 

" I d-didn't offend you, did I, mister? I am so sorry " He said in a frantic voice

Being the first to regain his grasp on reality, John shook his head and smiled at the small kid in front of him 

" Oh no - little lad, this theory of your is brilliant but how can you be so sure? " 

Beaming at the accident compliment and further inquiries on his theory, the boy cheerfully continued, forgetting the anxiety he felt earlier. 

" Oh, I found something near the alley there " He pointed to the alley nearest to where the bodies were discovered, which wasn't even ten meters away and tugged at John's sleeve to guide him to the place. And guess what they found there, near the alley entrance , a switch blade and a knife, all covered in dried blood. 

Still smiling, the boy continued in a gleeful manner 

" I found them and thought that the murderer couldn't have possibly be dumb enough to dispose of the weapons here and why would they need two weapons anyway. So I came to the conclusion that the two weapons were used by two different people and were left here quite recently , seeing how new they are. The lady and one of men 's stab wounds were much wider and gappier than the other man's so I thought that the lady and the man were attacked by the other man with the knife, the lady was the first to go down and then the man pulled out his switch blade, which he must likely carries for self defense and started to defend himself, unfortunately both of them died in the process. And maybe during the struggle, their weapons got knocked out of their hands and flew into the alley.And for the lady , obviously she died due tothe loss of the blood and one of the wounds was over her lung so it wouldn't be a sketch to conclude that her lung got puncturee and she couldn't screamed for help " The boy rambled like a mad man 

After he was done, both John and Lestrade were flabbergasted . Did a kid just solve a case for the Yard? 

' How the hell did the Yard not check the vicinity for the murder weapon? ' John thought, now realising that maybe Sherlock was right about how most of the Yard was incompetent. 

" Wel- well thank you for your help and enthusiasm,lad. But where are your parents? " John asked, almost too eager to meet the parents of this great child and give them a pat on the back for being able to create a kid like this, although he would give them advice on how maybe some teaching social norms would be beneficial. After all, the kid probably gave Lestrade a damn heart attack, if his face was any indicator. 

" Lestrade, close your mouth, you are trying to catch flies, mate ? " To which Lestrade did, but that didn't mean that he was over the shock. Turning back the boy, John cocked his head and repeated his question, this time more friendly, even crouching down to make him seem smaller and less intimidating to the young lad. 

" I don't have one anymore " The voice was so innocent and matter-of-fact that it took John a few moments to register it and gave meaning to the sentence. 

As though understanding the two men's confusion, the boy elaborated further 

" Mother left me, I was going to head to the police station and then I saw you and curiosity kinda took over " He said, somewhat embarrassed . 

" Okay then" Began Lestrade" Will you give us some time please, lad " And he pulled John aside, leaving the boy to wait.

 _" I think we have a lost child situation "_ Both men started at the same time 

" And John don't you think this kid looks familiar to a certain someone? " 

" What do you mean, Lestrade? " 

" Uh, nevermind. We need to get back to the Yard to file up the report and examine the blood on the weapons "

" And the skin under the fingernails" 

" Yes that too " 


	4. Chapter 4

" And about the kid? We can't leave him here " 

" Well of course,we need to get him to the Yard and we will figure it from there. We try to find his relatives, if it's unsuccessful he would need a place to stay,although I don't think many of the yarders would want to let him stay with them for the night. A great deal of us don't have even a decent flat . Lost child cases have never been common here " 

Finishing their conversation, the two men walked back to where the kid , who was now staring at the other police officers collecting evidence, was at. 

" Kid, can you come with us to the Yard ? " Lestrade asked, well it was more an order than a request. 

" The yard? " 

" New Scotland Yard, it's where us officers hang out and file paperwork when we don't have to running around chasing criminals" 

" Okay, but can I sit near the window, Mr Policeman sir? " 

" Sure, kid and call me Lestrade " 

The trip back the Yard was rather uneventful, aside from the unexpected kid sitting near the window, nothing was out of the ordinary. As John and the boy sat at the back, Lestrade was trying hard to focus on the road ahead of him but occasionally would glance at the kid. 

' Why does this boy look so similar? ' he ponder. An explanation hit him right in the head but he quickly shook it off 

' No, it's impossible, but then again considering his history. Is it really impossible? I need to make sure ' 

* * *

**At the yard**

While Lestrade was busy with getting the report and examination of the evidence done, John was left with the task of babysitting a kid. Not that he was complaining though. The kid had been quite well-behaved, just sitting beside him reading a document that John had given him to entertain himself. 

Remembering what Lestrade had said earlier, John took a good look at the kid. He looked strikingly similar to Sherlock, only that this little guy was blond , his face was rounder and with a smaller nose decorated with a few freckles. He looked like what Sherlock's kid would look like if Sherlock had had any interest in reproducing to continue the Holmes linage. But that was unlikely ,this is Sherlock " I'm married to my work " Holmes. Even thinking about the possibility that Sherlock might have a secret love child was ridiculous , even for John. Whatever woman that managed to get him on deserved a standing ovulation but then again seducing a corpse buried six feet underground is a bit far-fetch, hell even when said corpse had been alive , the idea was still too ludicrous . 

So caught up in his thought , John didn't even notice the two little eyes that was eyeing at him for the last two minutes during which conspiracy theories were being concocted in his head. 

Snapping back to reality, he found two blue-green eyes staring at him. 

" Your eyes are pretty ,Mister " The boy exclaimed gleeful, with a wide smile. 

" W-what? " He could only muster usually no one paid any attention to his eyes, or him in general. He was as plain as vanilla ice cream.Usually it had been his arrogant detective that had caught everyone's attention, whether enamored by his aloof beauty or frustrated by his sharp tongue and even sharper attitude, hell ,in many cases it had been both. 

" Central heterochromia , I read about it on the Net when Mother was gone. It is condition where the centre of one's iris has a different colouring compared to the border, due to the uneven distribution of uh- what did they call it again - 

The boy put his hand to his chin, almost into a thinking position. John chuckled, contrasting sharply to the calm and almost unsettling impression he had had on John earlier, the being sitting next to him now was just a kid, no less than thirteen, eager to share what he learnt to anyone willing to listen. John almost couldn't believe this was the same one that nearly gave him and Lestrade a heart attack when he showed up at the crime scene ,almost like a phantom. He almost thought he was in the movie The Shining. 

" M-me-melanin, yes, it is caused by the uneven distribution of melanin, causing the eyes to have different color within themselves. I have never seen them in real life, aside from my own ." Pointing at his own eyes,which were a mix of blue and green, depending on the light,with a sense of pride like any child would when discovering something unique about themselves.

" Yours have a ring of gold shade around the irises. They are so cool" The boy finished with a gesture at his own iris to empathize his point. 

John questioned how it was possible that anyone would abandon a bright child like this to fend for himself . People could be so cruel , even to their own kin

" Y-yeah I guess they are. Say, what's your name little lad ?" 

' Might as well get to know him better ' he thought fondly 

Almost in a instant, the boy replied

" My name is Arthur Miller , Sir " 

Seeing a child so happy at a chance to talk with someone really tugged at his heartstrings ,John always had a soft spot for children. They were , at their core, innocent like a white sheet , whether the sheet would be painted with bright colours or drenched in black ink and then stomped is unclear. In the latter situation, there was a chance the cycle would continue 

_Hurt people hurt people_

He hoped Arthur wouldn't become like that. No children deserve to suffer at the hands of anyone , less so their parents 

" Well Arthur, I am John Watson, you can call me John .Mind telling me something about yourself? Like age or whatnot ?" 

' Yeah that is a good enough conversation starter '

" Well I am eleven year and 4 months old, Mr John

_' So young '_

-. There is not much about me " 

The kid was beginning to tense up. John had seen this more than enough. More often than not, when he was examining children or asking them about how things had been recently they often had a hard time answering, whether it was because of interrupting parents always putting words in their children's mouths or just general anxiety a kid would have when facing an adult . Fortunately he knew how to handle situations like this. 

" Well let's start out small. Where are you from? " John reassured. When faces with such a broad question, some kids can be a bit tensed so it's best to start out small with casual question to create a familiar atmosphere first. And asking where the kid was from would give them ,at the very least , an idea on how Arthur's home life was. This was very essential. 

" I was born here sir, in London, have been here all my life " 

" And what do you usually do in your free time ? "

" Not much, when I get bored, I try to keep myself entertained,reading books from the library, researching things on the Internet. I tried to keep quiet so Mother wouldn't get cranky " The last part was said in a lower, but quieter voice ,which made John's face drop but he quickly put it back on as not to distress Arthur even more. 

" What about you , Mr John? " 

" Well, I usually just go about my day . Reading books is also an interest of mine, though nowadays I don't really have much time . "

' Since these days I have been too busy mourning my flatmate and been going insane from the bloody hallucinations ' that part was left out for obvious reason

" Is it really true that being a doctor is hard, Mr John? " 

The question caught John off guard a bit 

" Well it depends. And how did you know I am a doctor " 

Arthur tilted his head a bit to the right

" You have the smell of medicine but not the kind that used to preserve cadaver but rather the type used to treat common illnesses like headache, indigestion,... The tone you use reminds me of how some doctors try to cheer up children before an injection. Also there is a chemical stain on your jumper. It smells like disinfectant used in hospitals " 

At this point, John didn't know if whether to laugh or to cry.He could only managed a choked chuckle .The kid was like Mini Sherlock, only more polite and definitely less walls built around him. 


	5. Chapter 5

" That was amazing. Brilliant even. You're a bright kid " John said, suddenly remembering his and Sherlock's first meeting. Those were the good old days.  
Hearing the compliment, Arthur's eyes lit up like fireflies in the dark, a smile beaming on his face, making him look more like a kid his age rather than the kids with the unblinking eyes that came straight out of horror movies. 

Seeing the kid up close now, John noticed how weird his clothes were,an old t- shirt clearly meant for thirteen-year-olds and above , an equally worn pair of brown trousers, topped with a pair of brown shoes and a knitted cardigan, all of which looked a bit oversized for the boy and frankly speaking, they all looked so worn , with some of the colour already starting to fade from his beige T-shirt. All of that made him look so small, couple with the fact that he was a tad bit thin for a boy his height. 

John felt his fist tighten. 

' What kind of parents would abandon their children? Why did these people even have kids in the first place? Could they have bloody bothered to put a damn rubber on or maybe pull out in time or better yet have birth control on hand? At the very least take responsibility for what you did ' .

So many anger-fueled thought were filling John's mind . He should be desensitized with this by now. Back in Afghanistan, it was not uncommon to find dead mangled, even blown up corpses of innocent children. Sometimes, you would be hanging around in a village, chatting with the locals, giving the kids there piggy back rides, making small talks and then BAM the little lads you were just playing with were now dead, gone. They had had their lives taken away at a young age, most had their eyes wide open and their faces twisted into an expression of fear and pain. When this happened, you just had to suck it up and grab the nearest thing to make a make-shift weapon and head straight to battle, sometimes even stomping on the exposed guts or brain matter of some innocent villagers. It was quite literally bloody hell.

No matter how hard he tried, John couldn't get the images of those children's faces out of his face , twisted in pain and their body mangled beyond recognition, with guts oozing out like spaghetti and organs littered near the place they died.

By and large, John should be unfazed by this and yet here he was, worrying about an unknown kid ( who looked suspiciously like his deceased flatmate, who he may or may not have seen as more than a friend. Had it not been for his sandy blond hair and round small nose , the yard would be swearing up and down that he is Sherlock's kid.Like just put a black wig on him and the whole yard would think there is a secret love child of Sherlock walking around in plain sight and surprisingly not deducing and insulting people simultaneously) and getting all riled up about the possibility of said kid being mistreated. 

" Mr John" The voice bought him back to reality 

" D-did I offend you? " Arthur asked with worry in his voice 

" Uh yeah, I am fine , just got lost in Memory Lane, nothing important, lad. So anything you want to ask about me, lad? I take it that the conservation have been a bit one-sided so we might as well mix things up " 

" Well I do want to ask something , Mr John. How come that curly- haired lady over there keeps staring at us? " 

Okay that was not a question John was expecting 

Looking towards the direction Arthur was pointing, John quickly located the mentioned being, which was. 

Donovan. 

' Great ' John thought unenthusiastically

As if noticing that John and Arthur were staring back at her stalking arse, Donovan cautiously approached. 

" Lestrade needs you " She said bluntly

John merely gave a hum in response , stood up and gestured Arthur to follow him. 

Just as they were entering Lestrade's office, a distinct sneer came from Donovan 

" Didn't know Freak had a child? " 

It took John all of his restraint as a soldier and his good conscience not to turn around and verbally assault Donovan. The urge was tempting but he knew nothing good would come out of this and God's sake there was a child here. 

Entering his friend's office, they were instantly instructed by Lestrade to have a seat , which they did. 

" Okay lad, I will just ask ya a few questions okay? " Started Lestrade, already with note in hands

Gaining a nod from the young boy, he began . 

" What 's your name? " 

" Arthur Miller, sir " 

" Age? "

" Eleven "

" What school do you go to? " 

" Chester middle school, sir " 

" What grade are you in? " 

" I will be starting Year 7 after summer "

And so on, so forth, questions were answered. Personally to John, the process was too mechanical and bleak, not to mention too much pressure being forced on a kid. He could tell that Arthur wasn't feeling too comfortable being interrogated like a suspect of a triple homicide. 

Fortunately, the interrogation was short . 

" Well, that's enough for now. Thank you, lad " Lestrade said, reaching into the nearby bowl of candies , grabbing a few pieces and gave them to Arthur who accepted them, though the look on his face indicated that he didn't like the lemon-chocolate favoured hard sweet that he received. 

" John, can I have a few words with you, mate " Lestrade said and pulled John outside, leaving Arthur who was looking at the sweet with a disgusted look, which was understandable, I mean who even had the idea to combine lemon and chocolate as a candy favour. 

* * *

" What is it, Lestrade? " John inquired, a bit done with being pulled aside to have a private conversation twice this day. 

" Well, remember how I said that if we can't find the kid's relatives, he has to stay at someone's place for a night or two and how I said most of the yarders can't let him stay with them. " 

" Wait - you don't mean "

" Yes "

"Lestrade, I am not even part of the police. How can I? Why can't you do it? " 

" John, please, I know this is all too sudden for you, well, us but you're basically the only one I can trust on this. To be frank, I don't trust most of the officers here and the ones I do, I doubt, they have the space and time to look after a child. And we can't leave him " 

Much as he hated to admit this, but Lestrade was right. Leaving Arthur here was a no no and John didn't think that he could trust the yarders with the kid seeing how Lestrade remarked that they had never had this type of case before. Normally lost children got reunited with their families within hours of arrival, but what can you do when said child's family didn't want him. 

And it's not like John couldn't handle a kid for a few days, sure he needed to work but the kid seemed to be able to look after himself for a few hours. But John feared that he may have a breakdown while at the flat and scare the kid away. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as a lunatic by a child. 

After a good while battling his turmoil, his inner goodness and inability to watch a child be left alone won out. 

" Fine, I 'll do it " John said, letting out a sigh

" And for the love of God and everything holy Lestrade, rest for bloody hell's sake, mate. You look like utter shit" 

After John left with Arthur, Lestrade took a sip from his cup of coffee. 

' Taste awful but it does it's job ' he thought and then rummaged through his trousers' pocket to pull out his phone, dialing a series of number 

" Hey Myc, yeah I know, miss you too, I need a favour, something surreal happened today... 

* * *

If you told John a few hours earlier that he would be taking care of kid for the next few days, he would have laughed it off as a bad joke and yet here he was at the entrance to the building where his flat resided, with a eleven-year-old child. 

" What am I going to tell Mr Hudson? " He whispered to himself 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't bloody believe that I have made it this far. Thank you beautiful darlings so much


	6. Chapter 6

Arriving at Baker Street, John fumbled to get his keys. Holding onto Arthur's hand to guide him the way to his temporary home. The boy looked around the building, eye changing director like the spin of a helicopter to take in the new surroundings. 

" It's okay Arthur, you will be safe here. No one in this building bites, well there may be a few noise now and again but nothing too much " John reassured the small child beside him, who seemed to still be on edge despite his reassurance. This was reasonable, John remembered how shy and nervous he had been as a child, especially when in a presence of a new environment. The sense of the unknown had always gave him anxiety. 

Opening the door to the flat, John guided Arthur inside, looking at the oh-so familiar place, yet it wasn't the same without the world's only consulting detective. And somehow this was made even intense with the appearance of a small being that looked so similar to Sherlock

' Funny how human genetics work' John thought as he rubbed his shoes against the doormat, removing all the dirt and filth, before placing them in their rightful place. 

Seeing this, Arthur seemed a bit confused but decided to mimick John nonetheless , first getting rid of the filth and then setting his shoes next to John's. 

" Well" John started in an attempt to break the awkward silence between them 

" You want a cup of tea, lad? Or juice? " Said John as he reached into the fridge to find the bottle of orange juice he had bought a few days earlier. Since now there weren't any organs or heads, of any species, lying around in the fridge, John was able to easily locate the bottle of orange juice. 

" Tea, please Mr John " Arthur replied" Can I sit here please? " , pointing at one of the chairs in the living room, John's chair to be specific. 

" Yeah sure, go ahead, Arthur." 

Hopping on the chair, Arthur tried to make himself comfortable. All the walking had made his legs a bit tired , but that didn't mean that his mind was. Far from it, his mind was spinning around, taking in the details of the flat, connecting the clues to better understand his new environment and his new supposed caretaker. 

Despite still having some uncertainty towards John, he didn't think he would be much of a threat. To be honest, he thought John was friendly and nice to him, maybe even more than his Mother had been to him, even if he was dangerous, Arthur wouldn't need to worry, he had already mapped out an escape route and the pocket knife he had in his cardigan would come in useful. He may not be able to defeat an adult but with his small size, he could inflict some damage to his legs and then make an escape. 

' Of course, I am not going to do anything to harm Mr John, after all he seems nice ' but Arthur knew people can be deceptive so he had to be careful. 

' Better safe than sorry '

While John was waiting for the water in the kettle to boil in the kitchen, Arthur looked around the flat. 

' Seem spacious for a man to be living alone. Maybe Mr John has a flatmate or maybe a wife ' 

Moving his head around, Arthur looked up and noticed the room upstairs had had its door slightly open, enough to reveal that it was a bedroom. Lowering his head , he noticed the door to one of the rooms on the floor he was on was locked. 

Getting up and carefully stepping to peer through the keyhole, he could barely make out the outline of a bed in the dark

' So a flatmate then '

Quickly returning to the chair, Arthur sat down, pretending to have nothing to do. A minute later, John returned with two cups of tea in hands. 

" Milk and sugar, lad? "

" Yes, please Mr John" 

Nodding his head, John added a little milk and sugar to Arthur's cup 

" You know that you don't have to call me Mr all the time, right? " 

Arthur seemed confused before opening his mouth once again

" Isn't calling someone significantly older than you Mr or Miss a polite gesture? " He asked, scratching his head, ruffling his hand through his curly blond hair. He liked his hair colour, it wasn't like Mother's and from what he had heard from Mother about Father, it was the same case with him. Arthur felt a sense of relief, as ridiculous as it was, that he was , at least, different from his parents in that aspect. He couldn't have imagined turning into a junkie like his parents.He had already had enough defects from being a drug baby. He didn't need more. 

" Well yes, but sometimes it can be a bit too formal " John replied. Arthur liked the way he didn't treat him like a little kid unable to have a single coherent thought or worse, a pest or a mistake. He hoped that there weren't some deceptions involved . It would be a pity if there were 

" But I want to show respect " Arthur replied , slightly pouting . He always felt uncomfortable referring to people older than him without stating Mr or Miss or Mrs. It showed respect and a level of unfamiliarity, which was perfect. 

" Alright, lad " John chuckled, settling a cup of tea in front of Arthur. It smelled nice, unlike the bitter solution he had made with the cheap tea packets he had found at home. 

Lifting the cup to his nose, Arthur inhaled a lungful of tea, feeling a bit relaxed thanks to the calming smell of tea. From what he had learnt, tea has a calming effect on the nerves but when he tried to make it, the taste was so horrendous that he had to spit it out. That was probably due to the cheap and probably expired quality of the tea packets, plus his limited knowledge on how to make tea. 

' I need to learn more on this ' Arthur thought to himself. ' It doesn't smell drugged ' he thought as he took another whip of the tea . Taking a small sip, it tasted good, very aromatic and didn't taste funny. 

' Then again why would Mr John try to drug me? He seems respectable. Though I have heard that human trafficking can earn one a lot of money but again he doesn't look like the type of scum to do that. He actually seems a little sad , if his aura and the slump on his shoulder when he walks are anything to go by. Perhaps he has lost a loved one ' Thought Arthur as he drank the rest of the delicious tea. 

" It's delicious, Mr John" Complimented Arthur as he set his cup down. 

John let out a small smile, it was nice to be able to smile genuinely after months of possible insanity caused by his hallucinations and his thoughts. 

" Thanks " He said hesitantly 

" No really, Mr John. It's better than what Mother made. Despite being so proud of being full British, she is never able to make a decent cup of tea or even cook" 

John felt as if he was about to choke. The kid in front of him was talking about his less than ideal home life like it was nothing, which made him wonder what kind of shit Arthur had gone through to be so... unfazed. But he wasn't going to pity him. Sometimes pity can make a person feel even worse than they already have. He could say that from experience. If anything , he admired the kid for being so strong. Not to mention how aware of the situation the kid was. Not many kids know where to head to when they are abandoned by their family. 

" Y-your mother was not a nice lady , eh? " 

At least he could offer an ear to listen to the other's problems. An sympathetic ear can make one feel better by being able to let out their frustration. 

" No, I mean she used to be but she got messed up. She used to care about me but not anymore. All about her boyfriend and " Happy pills " . 

' Stopping rambling, you idiot. You're over sharing ' The voice in his head shouted but his mouth just kept going. 

" I hate her, I don't want to see her ever again. I WISH SHE WAS DEAD " As soon as the words were out, Arthur covered his mouth. 

John looked so shocked, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. 

' Shit, he's going to get angry ' The irrational fight or flight response of Arthur was going into overdrive. Why did he have to share that unnecessary detail. 

' Oh god, he is going to think I'm a psycho, a demented freak. Why mouth? WHY CAN'T YOU SHUT UP FOR ONCE ? ' 

Arthur started shaking, held his hands to his face, ready to cry out a string " I'm sorry- I'm sorry -I'm sorry " over and over. 

Instead of shouts or hit that he was expecting to receive whenever he dared overstep his boundaries, John gently parted Arthur's hands from his face, which were clawing at his face so hard that blood was threatening to leak out. 

Seeing the bright kid who had been smiling at him so preciously a hour ago curling up in a ball , begging like he was going to be beat up and mostly likely having a full on panic attack, it made John feel even more angry about the kid's situation, he didn't do anything wrong and yet was abandoned by his family. Oh how he wanted to give his mother a piece of his mind, he wouldn't even hold back on the swearing. This was full on child neglect and abuse. John felt horrified and furious how people can do this to their kin, their kid nonetheless.

It's like they were less than an animal.Sure there are some animals that would kill or abandon their young if stressed or endangered but human were above that, they developed morals, sympathy. That's probably why they are so advanced compared to the rest of the Animals Kingdom. 

Finally succeeding in keeping the kid from literally clawing his face away, John quietly sat beside the kid

" It's okay, I won't hurt you, you are safe. Keep breathing. Yeah that's good. Breathe in, breathe out, you're doing great " He reassured the little soul that he was safe, no one was hurting. It's what John wished people would do for him whenever he had war flashbacks, but after an accident where his colleagues had been too scared or disgusted to even approach and just acted like nothing happened afterwards, John decided it was better to deal with this in solitude. 


	7. Chapter 7

Slowly pulling Arthur into a hug, John gently pat his back, rubbing small circles on its middle to calm the young kid down. Despite the initial flinches, Arthur gradually sunk into the hug, his breathing slowly calming down till it was at a normal rate. After a while sitting still, the young boy's voice broke the silence. 

" W-why aren't you mad ?" He croaked, his voice all hoarse and dry from all the crying. 

And seeing this just broke John's heart, he knew the world was a cruel place, and sometimes it's the innocent ones that suffer, not the bloody tossers that always prey on the weak. Looking at the boy's scared, tear stained freckled face, somehow John saw his child self and many other children who suffered from mistreatment. He understood the helplessness and irrational thinking progress that everything was about to get them, harm them, torture them. It wasn't death that they most feared, but rather the long and likely painful way it would be delivered . 

Struggling to push through the painful sensation at the depth of his stomach, John began to open his mouth, ever so gently and carefully, in order not to distress the boy even more. Panic attack is a terrible, irrational thing, it 's a caged, scared animal, ready to lash out and attack or run away from any hands that approach it, be it a amiable or a malicious one. 

" No, Arthur, I am not mad. Like I said earlier, you're safe, I won't hurt you" His words, soft and steady, really had a calming effect on the young boy, or at the very least, had stopped him from falling deeper into the panic attack and risking hurting himself. That was the last thing John wanted. 

Still hugging, Arthur clinged to John more, almost like this was the first hug he had ever received, which was true, as least from what the young boy was able to remember. Mother's hugs were never for him, they were always for her string of boyfriends whom she would bring home and have bedroom wrestling or do happy pills. That were what she had told him to keep him oblivious but Arthur wasn't stupid, at least he hoped so, praying that whatever damn drugs his Mother had put into her body while carrying him hadn't affected his mental development . The thought of being mentally underdeveloped had Arthur sick to his stomach. He , definitely sure as damn bloody gutted hell itself, didn't want to be one of those drooling, brainless kids unaware of the world around them. In some fortunate cases, people would just take pity on them, some less unfortunate ones , however, those kids would be perfect target for child trafficking , which either resulted in them being labour slaves or sex slaves. Or get their organs ripped out and sold on the black market. 

' It's a miracle that Mother didn't abandon or kill me sooner. Good grace, what am I doing? Being a damn weakling, who breaks down at the slightest sign of misinterpreted danger. How can I survive being so weak? ' 

So caught up in his thought was the boy that he didn't notice that John had let go of the hug, leaving Arthur to start to cling to his own limbs. Pouring a new cup of tea, John held the cup up to Arthur, who was starting to tear up again.

" Here, drink up, Arthur. You need to replenish fluid " John said, knowing fully well that it was a lie just to get Arthur to drink the tea. It was a trick John had accidentally stumbled upon during one of his times researching as a med student. It is said by researchers that evolutionary psychology dictates that humans only drink or eat when they feel safe, whether it is about the things they are consuming or their surroundings. By making people have a drink or eat something when in distress, it can help trick the brain into thinking everything's okay, which can help a long way when one's brain is always screaming that you're in danger. 

John may not be as intelligent as Sherlock but he still knew many useful knowledge to aid him through his life, whether it was about being a soldier or a doctor. It's amazing how his medical knowledge could come in so handy when being a army doctor during his tours. Guess it's quite easy to defeat an opponent when you already know what a human's typical weak points. Sometimes it stunned John how a human body can be so fragile in some situations and resilient in others. 

Staring at the cup of tea, Arthur accepted with hesitation, his hands still a bit shaky, eyeing John almost in disbelief, his facial expression similar to the one John himself had made when this brilliant child had managed to speculate a possible story behind a case, while the Yard hadn't even bothered to check the vicinity for the blooming murder weapon. 

As the young boy slowly drank the tea, John noticed his sniffling had stopped, so had his hiccups. After having drunk the tea, Arthur lowered tea cup, which John carefully retrieved and placed it on the table , before pulling out handkerchief to wipe the tears from the boy's face. While doing so, he couldn't help but think that the boy was so like Sherlock and at the same time wasn't. The boy was bright and clearly had a bit of deduction skills, yet he didn't seem - how should John put it - so aloof, so emotionally constipated, which was good because as much as John admired Sherlock, he really didn't approve of the late consulting detective's way of dealing with emotions. 

" W-why? " The boy started, a expression of disbelief and confusion plastered on his freckled face. 

John only managed an equally confused "uh? "

" I don't understand Mr John. Why are you so kind to me? " 

At that moment, John wondered what kind of hell had Arthur gone through to make him believe that he was undeserving of kindness. John hoped he wouldn't meet the kid's mother or else there would be another kill hanging over his head. 

Clearing his throat, he responded. 

" Because you deserve it, Arthur "

A simple response but enough to convey the meaning


	8. Chapter 8

After comforting the young boy for a good half an hour, just reassuring and telling him he was worthy of being treated with kindness just like any other beings. 

That is, until a noise startled them both,it seemed that Arthur was getting hungry, if the growling of his stomach was any sign. 

" Want something to eat, lad? " John asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. It was getting late, around 8pm and he was sure that Arthur wasn't eating well, given how thin he looked, especially with those clothes that were simply a tad too big for someone his frame. John decided the best action now was to get him fed and make him more comfortable for the time being. 

" Y-yes, please " Arthur muttered, a slight blush on his face as the embarrassment seeped in, clutching his stomach. 

Going to the fridge, John pulled out some eggs, cream , tomatoes and leafy green before reaching up to the cupboard to get the dried pasta and some herbs and seasonings. 

" Is pasta okay for you, Arthur? " John asked, to which Arthur just nodded, still a bit embarrassed about earlier. Starting up the stove, John bought the pot of water to a boil , dropped the pasta and brought out a pan to make the sauce. First cream, then garlic, egg yolks for richness, chives, salt and pepper and finally a little bit of mozzarella to add texture. For the tomatoes, he simply grilled them to get them caramelized , thus more juicy and easier to eat. 

" You're really good at cooking, Mr John " Arthur commented, standing near where John was finishing the sauce and draining the pasta. 

John jerked up a bit, wondering how had he managed to move so quietly. Maybe that was how he had sneaked through the yarders at the crime scene, either that or the New Scotland Yard officers were more incompetent than John gave them credit for. He hoped it was the former rather than the latter

' Honestly, this is impressive ' John mentally remarked, in his mind he was already forming theories on why Arthur moved so quietly

' He did mention that his mother gets cranky easily . Could it be -' thought John before shoving those ideas to the back of mind, where they sat along side his complicated feelings for the late detective, although some curiosity still managed to resurface. 

'Now it's not the time to question him, I just need to focus on getting food on the plate. He needs time to slowly open up.' Concluded John as him dumped the freshly boiled pasta into the sauce and stirred for it to cling to the pasta. While doing so, he couldn't help but wonder how the yard would handle the boy's case. If they are unable to find any relatives to take the boy in, he will go into foster care, which has like a 50-50 chance of it being better for him than his previous home. He felt his hand tremble as the imagine of Arthur going into a foster home where he is ignored, treated with indifference, only kept for the sole purpose of financial gain and good popularity. It was hard to laugh at the irony of the situation, how he had just met this boy for less than 24 hours and already cared for him, similar to how a parent would. John attributed this to his doctor nature, his need to take care of people, not to mention the subject of his worry bore a eerie likeness to the person that he used to spend time caring for, most often after cases involving fights. 

' Maybe I can take him in ' the thought appeared as abruptly as the acnes on a teenager's face. It was simple but there were too much things to consider. How can John, a single man living alone,be deemed as better for the job of taking care of a kid than ,said , a couple consisting of two people. Not to mention taking care of a child means making sacrifices. What if the boy grows to resent him. 

After a while lingering at that thought, John's mind decided to advance the ante and had him wondering about the boy's origin. 

' He has only mentioned his mother and not his father. Maybe he is absent. If so where and who can he be? '

A speculation popped into his mind but John quickly swatted it away like one would normally do to a fly, quick and forceful. It was silly and blatantly ridiculous to even consider that idea as no way would someone as married to his work as Sherlock would ever have had the desire to do it. Even if he had, not like Sherlock would be heartless enough to do something like this, 

right, ? 

' No , he wouldn't. Sure the wanker had his own shortcomings and " high-functioning sociopath " status but he wouldn't be cruel enough to.. ' the thought was cut short by the smell of the dish being done. 

' Dear god, I am going insane '

Turning off the stove, John divided the dish onto two plates. If in the near future his most terrible and abhorrent speculation is proven to be true , then John really needs to reevaluate how good he is at choosing candidates on whom he places his trust. But that was another matter for another day, right now his only concern was to make sure his little guest feel welcome. 

" Food's ready, lad. - John said as he set the two plates on the table , before realizing he had forgotten to retrieve the utensils and turning to Arthur- Could you be so kind as to grab the utensils near the sink, Arthur " 

To which, the boy quickly obliged, running to the sink to get the utensils and returning back to the table before giving them to John who organized them beside each plate of pasta. 

" Well dig in, Arthur. "

The rest of the dinner was a bit weird to John, mainly because he hadn't eaten with someone for months now, so he was a bit unsure about how he looked while eating, though he soon realized he didn't have to worry much as his company was only a kid, so no need for any too proper table manner. 

" It's delicious, Mr John. You're a really good cook " Said Arthur, who was devouring the pasta with much vigor. Kid ate like he hadn't eaten for days. Chuckling lightly, John pulled out a tissue to wipe the sauce that got on the boy's face. Despite the initial flinch, Arthur let him. 

" Thanks ,Arthur "

Despite thinking it was just an attempt to break the awkward silence, John accepted the compliment nonetheless. It's not everyday that he gets a compliment, given how plain he seems. After all, it was Sherlock who got all the attention with his good looks, brilliant mind and equally dickish personality. Plus,it was good that Arthur was willing to talk and possibly open up more to him. In order to help the kid , he needed more information on him. 

After dinner and the washing up of dishes and kitchenware ( with the help of Arthur, who insisted that he help, despite John's numerous assurance that he could handle it himself) . After a minute of discussing, John gave in to the boy's insistence, deciding that this was probably his way of showing thanks. John admitted that it was endearing. 

After that, it was already 9:30 pm, which was a bit too early for him to hit the hay but he was too tired to wait another hour and Arthur, being a kid, probably needed his sleep by now, seeing how he had been yawning and rubbing his eyes for the past 10 minutes while holding his bags. 

" Well I guess it's time to go to the bed " John said which to make Arthur, who was halfway to dozing off while standing, jerk up. 

" O-okay " Arthur half-said, half-yawned, and started to walk towards the sofa, settling one of his bags down, before proceeding to hop on the sofa, using the other softer bag as a makeshift pillow. 

He was halfway to lying down on his back when John said 

" What are you doing, lad? You're not sleeping here ", which seemed to startle him enough for him to sit up 

" O-oh - his eyes looked down at the cold, hard floor - then am I going to sleep on the floor? ", his tone a bit sad but no trace of surprise could be found. It's not like he couldn't get a few shut-eyes sleeping on the floor, he had had worse. 

" W-what- John quickly retorted to clear the misunderstanding , he looked disturbed at how Arthur came to the conclusion that just because he was told that he wasn't sleeping the sofa,he would be sleeping on the floor - You're not sleeping on the floor. J-just follow me"

Holding Arthur's small hand, John guided him to the bedroom upstairs, his bedroom. 

" You will be sleeping here for the time being, lad. So get comfortable " said John before walking to the closet to pull out a pillow and a spare sheet. 

" Well you best go to bed now. The bathroom is downstairs and if you need anything, I will be downstairs too. " With that John was out of the room. 

Staring at the decently furnished bedroom, so different from the thin dirty mattress at home that had been his "bed" ever since he could remember. Reaching towards the bed, he could feel the soft, bouncy material beneath his palm. 

' It feels nice and comfortable ' 

Sitting on the bed, he could feel how bouncy it was, unlike the deflated one back home. There was also no foul smell or discoloration that could make him rather sleep on the floor. Letting his body lay down on the bed complete, Arthur felt like he was dreaming , that any seconds he was going to wake up and be back at home, smelling the putrid smell of vomit, sexual intercourse and alcohol and hearing all the grotesque noise and the sight of the white mind-destroying powder and colourful pills. 

Grabbing his wrist, he pinched it hard in an attempt to " wake up". It had been nice, but if he were to stay in his dreamland any longer, he might end up crying for something that isn't even real when he wakes up. 

' Maybe the pain isn't enough ' thought Arthur as he bought the back of his right palm up to his mouth and bit down hard , enough to leave a slight mark but not enough for blood to leak out

Letting go and wincing at the pain, he saw that nothing had changed. He was still in a bedroom with a comfy bed and he was safe, at least for the next few days. 

' So it's real and not my wild imagination '. Lying back down on the bed, he succumbed to the softness of the material and dozed off to dreamland. 

Meanwhile, John was downstairs, pondering what kind of hellish life did Arthur go through. Remembering his expression when he had thought that he would be taking up residence on the hard and cold floor of the flat just made John want to punch the kid's parents even more. Who would even do that to a child? A monster that's for sure. 

_She used to care about me but not anymore. All about her boyfriend and " Happy pills"_

_'_ Drugs' concluded John, letting a sigh of exasperation. Oh how he despised this side of humanity. 

As a doctor, he had heard about many stories involving drug addictions of all kinds such as heroine, morphine, acid, hallucinogen, etc,.. within the medical community, but none of that compared to seeing the damage it caused for the innocent with your own eyes. Drugs, the illegal and extremely dangerous kind, can turn a kind human into a raging savage who would do anything to get their next hit to the point that that is all they care about, ignoring everyone else, even one's own children.Coming from a not so happy home life himself, John could sympathize with Arthur. The boy was strong and bright but abuse and neglect like that can affect anyone, especially children whose mind hasn't matured and so can be easily led astray. Children who grow up with drug addicted parents are said by researchers to have a high risk of committing substance abuse when older. The thought of the cycle being repeated in the future sickened John so he decided he was going to deal with that tomorrow. Right now, sleep was what he needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, sorry for not uploading, schools in my country just started again so I am going to be a tad busy for next coming month. Apologies beforehand for the slow updates. I will make it up in length, hopefully


	9. Chapter 9

As the light of the sun shone through the uncovered window, Arthur groaned and rolled over. Instead of the short transition from the mattress to the floor like he had anticipated , he received a rather pain-inducing fall. 

" Ouch what the hell ?" He grunted, rubbing his side to ease the throbbing. At least that wasn't the only one he had. It took him a moment to clear his foggy mind and register that he wasn't at his home. 

" Oh yeah" He muttered, rubbing his head as he recalled the events of yesterday. To be honest, it was still a bit shocking for him that his mother would abandon him. As much as he hated his mother now, it was hard to deny that a long time ago, there had existed feelings for his mother ,other than hatred and resentment. Standing up, he reached for his bags, joyful to find that nothing was lost. Reaching into his knitted cardigan, he let out a sigh of relief that his pocket knife was still in place. 

' I wonder who thought of the idea for pocket knife. Did that person just one day think " Hey, I want a knife that can fold into itself so that I can surprise my enemies. You think this is a piece of wood, bam a knife." Maybe I will look into that later '

' People may think I am a deranged psycho for carrying around a knife but better have some protection than none, right? Especially in my situation ' thought Arthur as he settled the knife back into one of the pockets on the inside of his cardigan. which all seemed to be of a different material than the rest of his cardigan. They were worn pieces of scrap fabric cut and neatly sewn onto the cardigan for better holding ability , they even had buttons used to close the pockets to ensure further that none of the contents slipped out.

' Good thing I know how to sew. I will have to admit I really outdid myself on these , thought I did pricked my fingers a great many times ' he smiled at the result of his meticulous and patient sewing while shuddering a bit from memories of the sharp pain experienced when sewing, feeling a sense of pride and like he was one step closer to proving Mother that he wasn't useless. 

~~_But what if you are??_ ~~

Honestly he thought it was weird how people were so adversed to carrying knives as self-defense weapon. I mean would be inconvenient for someone to accuse you of being a murderer just because you were carrying a knife. He hoped the officers wouldn't that gullible. But then again he had managed to sneak through a bunch of official police officers, all with badges and other authoritarian stuff, to get into a murder scene. Even Mr Policeman there - what was his name again - L-lestrade, yeah, even Mr Lestrade, a likely trained professional that had been working the job for years, indicated by his age ,posture and general familiarity with gore, had looked like he had just seen a ghost. Reminded of the event, Arthur couldn't help be feel proud for having been able to fool several police officers. 

Realizing that it was still early in the morning, Arthur decided to look around the room. 

' Dog tags, polished frequently, probably hold some sentimental value , so Mr John was in the military. No wonder he always walks like the soldiers in military documents' 

The though frightened Arthur a bit. Now knowing that he was in the same house with an ex-military, he needed to come up with a different strategy to fight back and escape if need be. No one knew Arthur had a knife on him so maybe he could aim at a vital organ or maybe go for the legs and slice the tendons. Humans can be so fragile if you know where to inflict damage

He knew that his thinking of ways to kill anyone that came close to him was a bit ridiculous and if not all but demented, deranged, psychotic and insane from a sane person's view.Not like he was in any potential danger, even if Mr John had wanted to hurt him, he would have done it in his sleep. And what use would he make of killing a child, especially when said child had been reported to the police about his abandonment. If Arthur were killed, his murderer wouldn't get off scot free easily. 

' Still it can't hurt to be careful ' the voice inside his head illustrated. The voice was annoying at times but it had saved his arse more than once so he didn't have much complaint about his anxiety for now. 

After all, Arthur essentially had no one to lean on. If he is going to be put into foster care, which is muchly likely, adoption, on the other hand, not so much, as few would want a child his age, too rebellious and stubborn, then he will run the risk of being used a tool for good population, a trophy that his " caretakers" flaunt to prove to the world how they are good-hearted beings to have the courage to take in a deranged child. 

Unfortunately, seeing how disappointing human kind can be, the public will, most likely, eat up those lies like a pack of hungry wolves spotting a juicy piece of meat. 

' Mr John has an a large amount of jumpers. He must love wearing them' Arthur commented as he spotted the arrangement of neatly folded jumpers in the closet. 

' I can't argue with that. Jumpers are comfortable and cozy, they are like hugs personified as clothes. I wish I had one '

* * *

Awakening from his restless slumber, John stretched his arms over his head and arched his back. Sleeping on the couch wasn't exactly comfortable but he still managed to get some rest, despite the minor nightmares. John was surprised that he hadn't waken up screaming like a madman during the night, which would be very awkward for him and Arthur. 

' I wonder how he is doing ' John thought as he slipped out of the sofa and walked upstairs. 

Opening the door to his bedroom, expecting to see the blond boy still sound asleep, to his surprise, Arthur wasn't asleep, in fact, he wasn't seen anywhere within John's vision. 

_oh fuck_

_"_ Where the fuck is he? " The doctor muttered, turning his head in all directions in search of the blond-headed boy, any signs of the head of curly blond locks. 

Scrambling around, lifting up the bed sheets and pillows, opening up the closet and looking under the bed, John basically checked every nook and cranny for the boy. 

' oh bloody hellish fucking tossing shit of the motherfucking Lord of the damn above ' Cursing out every kind of profanity John had learnt during his army time, he realized that Arthur wasn't even in the room. Rushing out of the room, John was just, quite frankly, moment away from turning the flat upside down. 

' HOW THE FUCK DID I MANAGE TO LOSE A KID ?' 

Fortunately for him and quite possibly the flat , the sight of the blond curly hair came into view. 

' Oh thank god ' John let out a sigh of utter and utmost relief. That was like the second near heart attack he had had in the last 24 hours, and they were all caused by the same individual. What an accomplishment!! 

After the relief, John noticed someone was standing in front of Arthur. 

It was Mr Hudson, who frankly looked puzzled as to why there was a small child here in John's flat.

' Knew I would have to explain sooner or later ' 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, John approached to resolve the awkward and puzzling situation that was definitely causing both parties to feel very confused, although on Arthur's part it was more uncomfortable and uncertain. 

" Hi Mrs Hudson " John started, showing a smile to increase the chance of this going smoothly

" I can explain " he continued , pulling Mr Hudson aside to have a chat with her while telling Arthur to go freshen up in the loo and that he could find a spare toothbrush in a bag hanged on the door. 

After explaining Mrs Hudson the reason why Arthur was staying with him for a few days at least until they could locate any of his relatives. He only talked about the accidentally solved a case vaguely as he didn't want another one making the comparison between Arthur and Sherlock.(*cough cough* Lestrade)His slowly going mad brain had already been doing a wonderful and fantastic job at that. 

' Honestly the kid's looks are similar enough, had not been for his hair and some facial features . Maybe I do need to go the loony house.'

" Poor boy " Mrs Hudson said, eyeing Arthur who was sitting on the couch, reading one of John's medical books. He was probably too absorbed by the book to notice the worried stare of Mrs Hudson, which was good. 

John only nodded in agreement with Mrs Hudson. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back, my lovelies. Thank you so much for supporting me through the story. I appreciate it, hope you enjoy the rest of the story as well if not more than what has already been posted.

After having explained the situation of Arthur to Mrs Hudson, John might as well get the two acquainted. It might help ease the discomfort now being made by Arthur's relentless and unblinking staring, like that of a doctor preparing to perform a surgery or a pathologist doing an autopsy. 

" Well Arthur- John started, pulling the two face to face, well more like face to chest or collar since Arthur's height was still that of a child- this is Mrs Hudson, the landlady- Mrs Hudson glanced at John- also not the housekeeper. Mrs Hudson, this is Arthur, the one who will be staying with me here for a few days. "

Looking down at the small boy, Mrs Hudson flashed a friendly motherly smile

" Oh aren't you just absolutely precious, dear boy " She said, cupping Arthur's two cheeks still full with baby fat, thus making them extremely impossible not to pinch or in Mrs Hudson's case, squish. 

' Soft like marshmallow'

" Nice to meet you too, Mrs Hudson" Arthur replied, struggling to get his words out due Mrs Hudson's hold on part of his face. He still wasn't used to people being .............................................. kind to him. Being touched normally meant incoming hits to the body part being touched. 

The egg donor had suck awful taste in boyfriends. 

'Perhaps Father or maybe I should call him sperm donor, after all I have never met him and possibly never will, is even worse. God knows if he is even alive and has not, by some miracle, overdosed or landed himself in prison. '

The thought amused Arthur and he felt a bit too ecstatic for imagining his biological life giver's suffering. 

_What if he is doing well and doesn't even know you exist ?_

That really got on Arthur's nerves, leaving his hands tighten into fists and his teeth grinding like he was chewing through a newly mauled prey . The thought of being essentially forgotten, it is even worse than being a mistake who only existed due to two people being horny and didn't think thing through, and also drugs. The idea that the fucking sperm donor was out there living life, hell, what if the fucker already had a family, partner and kids and all of that shit. If Arthur were to show up saying" Hi, I am the accident that came from your one night stand with your fellow drug addict when you were high off your bloody mind ", the results wouldn't be good, not in the very least. 

' Can the word really be " forgotten " when your existence means nothing to them ? ' thought Arthur, that was another thing to add to the list " Reasons why I may have parental issues"

Snapping back from his mind, he heard 

" And you're so thin, we need to fatten you, boy. Put some meat on your bones" Mr Hudson said, eyeing Arthur's appearance and deeming him to be in need of some good nourishment. That made Arthur look down at himself. His choice of clothes was off, but what could you do when you hardly had any clothes to alter between? And he was a bit on the thin side, though not enough to make his ribs poke out but it was still a bit concerning. 

It's not like he was picky about food, it's just that he couldn't stomach the nearly spoiled mush at home. 

' Poor boy needs to be fed ' Mrs Hudson thought and decided that she was going to bake him some goodies to fatten him up. 

" As a matter of fact, Mrs H. I was just going to make breakfast for us. Would you like to join? " John offered , already on his way to the fridge to get the ingredients. 

" That's a delightful offer, John but I can't. " Mrs Hudson politely declined. " Still got some work to take care of. I only came here cause you have been so quiet yesterday. I thought-" She closed her mouth before finishing her sentence 

John knew what she was going to say, he couldn't blame her for worrying too much. One of her boys had already died, so she couldn't afford another tragedy to happen. 

Saying a farewell, Mrs Hudson went off to continue her business, leaving only the two blonds in the flat. 

"Come on Arthur, let's go make some breakfast " 

" C-can I help, Mr John? " 

" Of course, lad"

* * *

After having breakfast (bacon,eggs, buttered toast and caramelized veggies), both of them sat on the couch , both trying to get used to the other's presence.

Arthur was feeling a bit uncomfortable, he never had breakfast often.

The conversation Mrs Hudson and John had had earlier had piqued Arthur's interest. Despite the lack of social skills, he could tell that the topic they were discussing was a bit on the sensitive side, due to the fact they intentionally lowered their volume so that he couldn't hear. He knew that he shouldn't get nosey but curiosity eventually got the best of him. After all he needed to better this new environment to avoid risking any provoking the people around here. 

' Now I think about it, I haven't seen Mr John's flatmate anywhere. And he looks like he slept on the couch yesterday ( indent on the couch, and the pillow and blanket on it confirm it). Why didn't he choose to stay in the other bedroom? Maybe he and his flatmate aren't close. '

Glancing at the furnishing of the living room, all the books, decorations, especially the skull that sat on the fireplace. It looked real and Arthur had to resist the urge to go and touch it to confirm his suspicion. 

' Impossible, the mingling of the furniture proves otherwise. Normally, people won't let their possession comes into contact with those of someone they don't trust. Insecurity, fear of thievery and being taken advantage of and the like. Then again the door to the bedroom is locked so maybe Mr John can't get in, even if he wants to. '

Recollection of the glimpse he got into he bedroom flashed before his eyes. 

'WRONG, disastrously wrong. 'His mind shouted

' The inside was dusty.Even in the darkness, I could some of the dust on the floor and the other side of the door. So that bedroom haven't been used from some time now. What happened to his flatmate? They didn't move out that's for sure, the furniture and personal belongings were still there, in the bedroom. '

If you hasn't before then you maybe thinking that Arthur was peculiar and too aware for a kid. 

Due the lack of social interaction and loneliness, Arthur had developed this habit of keeping himself busy. Sometimes it was reading the books that hadn't been sold off with the intention of fueling mother's addiction, sometimes it was researching things off the Net in the local library, sometimes it was just going to the nearby park, and see if anyone had left anything behind. Sometimes he would do that at school. ( he actually got his knitted cardigan that way and also a couple of jackets lying in his bags).

He never got caught, which was good. 

' Maybe the flatmate is dead ' the idea popped up in his head. 

' It's logical, and would like explain the aura Mr John is giving off, like someone who is in mourning'

* * *

Quickly enough, it was time for John to go to work. Seeing Arthur who had been sitting silently on the couch for a little too long, with his hands slightly raised and his finger tips touching each other, John decided to take one of his books off the shelves. The book was " The hobbit" , one of John's personal favourites

' I hope the kid likes this one, he seems to like reading ' 

" Arthur, i'm going to go to work. Stay here and behave, okay lad? "

Arthur nodded

" Oh and here's a book to keep ya company. If you finish it early, you can grab another on the shelves . If you grow hungry, food is in the fridge. The telly remote is over there. OH and your clothes, I don't think I have any your size-"

" I have a few in my bags, Mr John. "

" O-okay, well bye"

" Goodbye Mr John, thank you for the book"

After John left, Arthur looked down at the book

"The hobbit" He muttered 

" Seems interesting " And started to open the first page. 

On John's part , the work was as usual. The common cold, sprained ankle, sore throat, the like. The work was boring but fulfilling in a way, knowing he was doing some good curing the ill.After examining one of his patients,

' Stomach indigestion, typical '

John sat down at his table and lean back to get some rest.

Feeling his phone ring, he pulled it out. It was a text from Lestrade. 

It read:" Bring the kid to the Yard at 3pm today. We need to do a DNA test " 

" Weird how they have already got a possible candidate " John said under his breath. 

From what he knew, this type of cases usually didn't end with a relative being located. Being put into foster care was the normal outcome for case like this. 

Standing up , John headed to see Sarah his boss, to ask for an early leave. When she asked for the reason, John explained the situation vaguely, only telling the outline of thing, leaving out the fact said child in his care accidentally solved a case. 

Being kind and understanding, Sarah allowed him to leave early by two hours. John thought part of it was because they were low on patients today so what's the harm in allowing John to leave early to do some good. 


	11. Chapter 11

As for Arthur, he was back at the flat, nose deep in the book, reading each word with much vigor. 

It was more interesting than he expected, although he wished there had been more elaboration on the characters but this was a children book. 

Finally finishing the book after three hours of continuously reading, minus the time he had to close it temporarily to digest the knowledge that was dropped on him like a bomb. 

" I kinda like this Bilbo fellow " He muttered, a bit sad that the story had to end but then again, what didn't? 

After finishing the book John had given him, Arthur was, with all honesty, bored. Usually he didn't have any free time like this. He wondered if he asked nicely, could he go outside to gather some plants to observe. Back at home, there was a poison ivy bush growing near his house, he would pick some leaves( using a piece of paper as a barrier between his hand and the itch-inducing leaves) and make potion out of them, mostly just boiling them in an attempt to extract the substance inside that caused the itching and rashes

It had been silly but he had been only 8 or 9 at the time so his knowledge on chemistry had been rudimentary.He wondered if he had left them to dry out, would them still be as effective. If they were then it would be hard to distinguish them once mixed into dried tea leaves.

' That's a neat little idea' he thought, wondering if poison ivy would be strong enough to kill a person if enough was used 

There had also been mushrooms growing from the floor of his house. He knew it was due to the unhygienic circumstances, but they were still interesting to him nonetheless. 

He would pick them up, clean them, smell them, cut them open to observe the squishy inside, tries to see if he could grow more by planting one into the soil of the nearby park. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. 

It had been unclear to him whether they were poisonous or not. He had been tempted to pop one into his mouth. 

' If it's not, I will have something to eat, if it is, then I can escape this hellhole' was what he had thought at the time. To him, it was basically a win-win situation. And so down the mushroom went to his stomach. 

Fortunately ( for us of course ) , he only had a nasty urge to regurgitate, and he did. 

" Maybe I should have put them into mother's food " He said subconsciously while placing the book back on the shelf, considering the action seriously

He decided it was best to move on to something else. No use thinking about the past

His mind wandered to the thought of all his new academic books for his year 7 in his bags, which we're gifted to him by the school since he was among the list of students living in poverty.

' Honestly we wouldn't be so bad off if she actually had some brain cells in her drug filled skull'

' Maybe I should get a head start in studying but it's so tedious sometimes. All the bloody formulas of mathematics. '

Despite being very capable of mesmerizing those pesky formulas, he still groaned at the thought of doing things that were, in his opinion, not his cup of tea. He was more interested in human anatomy, biology, chemistry, medicine and lastly history than mathematics. 

He knew that mathematics is the very thing that helps human advance to this point of almost having mind-numbing conveniences. He knew the basics and everything required to work out everyday problems, how weird phenomenons can be explained with science and basic logic. 

" Well that's enough over thinking for a day " Arthur said, jumping off the couch and walked off to find something to do.

* * *

Back to John, he still had an hour left till he could leave, which was 1pm . Now was 12am , he still had about one or two patients left so it wasn't too hard. 

' Maybe i should seek out other place to work' he thought since this had become quite boring and mundane for him. 

' God that bastard rubbed off on me ' he thought, wondering how the dead could have such an impact on the living for being...........well dead. 

After all patients had been examined and diagnosed, he bid his colleagues and his boss good bye and gathered his things. 

On his way, he kept thinking of how he could get Arthur to share more of his home life prior to being abandoned. 

' He seems to be unaware of how devastating this kind of treatment is' John thought , remembering the tone Arthur had used when talking about his mother. It was cold, without any warmth, like when talking to a stranger. 

' Children coming from abusive or neglectful household generally don't grasp the full extent of their mistreatment, especially those who have endured this since young '

At least that was he knew about the subject. 

There were cases of the abused growing to become abusers themselves. It's ironic , in John's opinion, to become the one you once hated with every fiber of your being. In worse cases, they can have a complete breakdown, breaking their fragile psyche permanently

It's understandable that emotions can be unpredictable, it's the thing that can make us or break us. Emotions give us motivation to do things, but they can make us feel so crushed to the point of losing ourselves and grip on reality. 

John once heard a story from one of his military friends. When she ( the friend) was a teenager, a string of murder started happening in the neighborhood. The killer targeted women with blond hair, blue eyes, basically girls that were considered attractive. The bodies were mutilated, their skin ripped off their face, their vaginas stabbed with a, what the police assumed, kitchen knife,their breasts cut clean off and laid beside their bloody cadavers.

Turned out the killer was a girl, who was always shamed by her mother and father for not being " perfect ", at school she was ridiculed for being one of the ugly ones. Due to this, the first time someone showed affection for her, she leeched on like a leech. Unfortunately for her, the guy only took advantage of her and then left. 

All of this broke her and she started to have the illusion that she could kill these " perfect girls" and get their most best assets, which were faces and breasts. She only left the breasts behind because they weren't good enough, in her broken mind. 

When the police caught her, she killed herself. 

The case was sad in John's opinion. It just made him feel both sorry and not sorry for the killer. Though he still leaned towards the idea that she should have been responsible for her horrible actions, a thought still lingered in his head 

What if they had gotten the girl help? 

What if she hadn't gone through all the mistreatment? 

So on and so forth, but it was quite useless to worry about the past now

 _And yet you're still hung up on him_.His annoying mind taunted him. 

He quickly swatted that input away, locking it in a chamber with lots of locks and chains in his mind dedicated to unwanted things, where it sat alongside some of his war memories and other complicated feelings and thoughts that couldn't be said. The chamber always had whispers and screams emitting from it but John could brush them away easily enough

_" First time? " The other emotions and thoughts that John had previously locked away greeted the newcomer_

Arriving at Baker Street, John walked up the stairs leading to his flat. He hoped Arthur didn't get bored being in the flat all day. 

Opening the door, John could still see the hallucination of Sherlock, just standing there in all his glory, trench coat, suit, scarf and all, staring through his very soul. He had been having these for a few months now. At the beginning, he would find himself waking up, carrying out an entire conversation with fake Sherlock, nearly forgetting about the suicide, until reality kicked in and Sherlock would vanish, leaving John behind questioning his sanity. Mycroft had revealed his supposed " concern " about John's condition. John wondered why the governmental official even bothered with him. His brother was dead, John had no uses anymore. Why choose to keep helping him? John would never understand that.

He even threatened to admit John into a mental asylum, which wasn't something that John took to. 

He was already considered pathetic enough, in his view, he didn't need another reason to hate himself. To please the ginger demon and possibly get some peace, John had decided to ignore all his hallucinations. Sometimes it worked with fake Sherlock slowly fading away, sometimes he broke down crying, mumbling incoherent noises and reaching for something sharp. 

Watching the vision slowly fade into nothing, like many times before, he called out for Arthur

" Arthur, I am home. Where are you? "

Sure enough, a head of blond locks immediately came into view

" Ah, I see you have freshened up, lad "

Arthur was now wearing a pair of dark grey trousers, a cream coloured wrinkled shirt. On the sofa, he could see the clothes Arthur had worn yesterday. Walking over to the sofa, John carefully picked up the pile of clothes, Hearing Arthur audible gasp and the hesitation to let him come in contact with the clothes, John said :

" No worry, lad. I am just going to put them in the laundry basket for a wash" 

Arthur maneuvered his raised hand down, feeling a bit red in the cheeks for having reacted so rashly, despite the fact John didn't seem to mind.

" Well good news, Arthur. Lestrade managed to locate a possible relative of yours." John said, taking off his beige overcoat to hang on the coat hanger. 

" Though it is weird that you will need to do a DNA exam " He continued 

" Well mother never was close to any of her family members " Arthur said, remembering all the time mother would drunkenly revealed a lot of her issues to him during her high, with profanity , sex, trauma and all. 

" I won't be surprised if they try to deny my existence. "

" o-okay " John let out, not knowing whether he should proceed with the conversation. In the end, he decided to push forward with it

" Anyway, you are always about your mother. Mind if you tell me more about your father? " John said gently

" You don't have to, if you don't want to, Arthur " He added, seeing Arthur's hesitant expression. 

" No I want to " He replied, after a minute of contemplating. 

" Well - he started, a bit nervous, he had never had to to talk about father , he didn't even know what he looked like - I don't know much about father, he has never been in the picture. "

Well, John's speculation was confirmed. 

" I only know that he was mother's one-night-stand or one-night-fuck "

John was a little surprised at how Arthur knew that word, okay maybe not much considering the kid's home life but it was still startling to hear that word coming from a kid. Maybe it was not that fact that he knew the word rather than how he discovered the meaning and the situation in which he learnt it. 

" Whenever she was drunk or high or well both,- the images of numerous beer bottles and pill containers flashed before John's eyes, he wondered if this imaginary imagery of his was any close to the real one - she would cry and lament and blame everything in existence, blaming father, blaming me, despite the fact that I am sure that part of it was because of her horny arse " The last one was said in a mutter but John still caught it. 

" Sometimes she would force me to listen to her lamenting about how her passionate night with father was, how she should have used me to pin it again him and force him into marriage. She said he came from a rich background. 

Fortunately for the sperm donor, she never found him "

Finishing his story , Arthur added a flick of both his hands, as if this was just a normal topic to come up in conversations. John 

John opened his mouth to speak but closed it again , rethinking his question again. Finally he said 

" So, do you have any idea what he looks like? " 

" It would help with our investigation " He added quickly. 

Arthur seemed to believe it

" Well, Mr John, I only know what mother described to me. If I remember correctly and mother wasn't deliriously making things up, he has black hair ( though I doubt that will narrow anything), is tall and lean. But that could be anyone. " He said, trying not to remember all the graphic depiction mother provided about his lower region. 

" And what about demeanour? " John asked subconsciously, honestly he didn't even know why he would be asking such a question. 

" Oh mother never mentioned it, that's how she is, always saying how much of a bloody looker he was and how she should have trapped him to the old balls and chains. Though I do remember one time she said that he wasn't such a gentleman, but he made up in - Arthur shuddered at the exact words of his mother - other ways " He said, hoping that John would get the meaning without him having to outright say it. 

And he did, indicated by his wide eyes and slight redding on the face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I am already on chapter 11.Hope you all like the development of Arthur's character.


End file.
